Insatiable Appetites

9

They heard a car door slam and the sound of the vehicle driving away. Stone went to the bookcase, released the catch, and opened it. He entered the combination, spun the wheel, and opened both doors of the safe.

“Very neat,” he said. There were shelves and drawers filled with files and a case containing a watch winder behind a glass door. The watches were slowly rotating. On a shelf at waist height was a row of red envelopes, perhaps a dozen of them. “Get a legal pad and let’s start making a list of the contents,” he said to Herbie, who complied.

Stone started at the left end and removed an envelope. “Last Will and Testament of Eduardo Bianchi,” he read aloud, then he returned the envelope to the shelf. He went through the rest of the envelopes: half a dozen of them contained codicils to the will; the others contained up-to-date financial documents: brokerage account statements, a deed to the house, and a financial statement among them.

“The man had an orderly mind,” Herbie said, noting each on his pad.

“It looks to me as though Eduardo was preparing to die,” Stone said. He took the last envelope from the shelf. “This is addressed to me,” he said. He sat down at Eduardo’s desk, broke the red wax seal, and removed some sheets of paper. “There’s a letter,” Stone said. He read it aloud.

Stone couldn’t speak for a moment.

“Shall I ask Pietro to collect the garbage bags?” Herbie asked.

Stone nodded, and Herbie left the room, giving him time to compose himself. Stone took some deep breaths and reflected on the many lunches he had enjoyed with Eduardo, how the man had offered the chapel in his house for Stone’s marriage to Arrington, and arranged for the mayor of New York to perform the ceremony, not to mention the reception that followed.

Herbie returned. “There were only three bags of trash. I emptied them all and found nothing of any import.”

“Let’s continue cataloging the contents of the safe,” Stone said.

They worked through the day, stopping only for the sandwiches Pietro thoughtfully brought to the study.

“That’s everything in the safe,” Stone said, returning the last item to its place.

“Shall we read the will?” Herbie asked.

“I think I will reserve that for dinner tonight,” Stone said. “His family will all be there, except for Dolce.” He made a mental note to discuss her condition with Mary Ann when he saw her. He took the will and the codicils, put them into his briefcase, and snapped it shut. Pietro appeared as if summoned.

“We’re done for the day, Pietro,” Stone said, handing him his keys to the house. “I’ve removed the key to the study, and I’ll lock up. Tomorrow morning several people will arrive to catalog everything in the house. Please do whatever you can to make their work easier, and, perhaps give them some lunch. It may take them a week or two. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Of course, Mr. Barrington,” Pietro said, then left.

Stone closed the safe and spun the wheel, then picked up his briefcase and locked the side door to the study. He stepped into the hall and locked that door, too. As he turned to leave he stopped; six men in black suits were carrying a coffin down the stairs. He and Herbie followed them outside and waited until they had put the coffin into a hearse and driven away.

Fred had returned for them and drove them back to the city.

Early that evening everyone gathered: Peter and Hattie, Ben and Tessa, Dino and Viv. Fred made drinks for everyone.

“How did it go today?” Dino asked.

“Very well. Eduardo saw it coming — he had put his affairs into perfect order. By the way, I invited Mary Ann to dinner, but I’m not sure she’s coming.”

“Yeah, well, okay,” Dino said. “I’ll prepare Viv, just in case.”

Then Fred showed in Mary Ann, and it was Stone’s job to introduce her to Vivian Bacchetti. That went more smoothly than he could have hoped. They were called to dinner.

After they had dined, Stone put his briefcase on the dining table and opened it. He handed Mary Ann the envelope addressed to her and waited for her to read it. She nodded.

“I thought this might be a good time to read the will,” Stone said, “since everyone concerned is here.” He broke the seal on the envelope and read the will, which was mercifully brief.

Eduardo had left his house and most of its contents to a foundation already set up, with the proviso that any of his descendants and their families could live there, paying a modest rent. He bequeathed each of his descendants twelve pieces of art from his collection: they would draw lots for the order of choosing. The rest he left to several museums.

His liquid assets, after taxes and certain bequests in codicils, would be divided equally among his two daughters and his grandson, this in addition to trusts already set up for them and funded. Then came the codicils: he left generous sums to Pietro and his secretary, Angelina, and to his household staff. To Stone’s surprise, another codicil left the Modigliani portrait to Stone and the two similar paintings, the Picasso and the Braque, to Herbie Fisher. The codicil was signed and witnessed on the afternoon of the day they had lunched there.

“And that’s it,” Stone said. He raised his glass. “I give you a toast: the memory of Eduardo Bianchi, who none of us who knew him will ever forget.”

Everyone drank, then they chatted for a while and took their leave.

Stone saw Mary Ann to the door, where her car awaited.

“I’m relieved to have you as co-executor,” she said. “I worried about the responsibility.”

“I’m very happy to help,” Stone said.

“And thank you for tonight. You’ve relieved some of the family tension, I think.”

And then she was gone, and Stone went to bed. He had a long day ahead the following day. But he had forgotten to ask her about Dolce.